


The Goat's Human Kids

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Artificial Insemination, Artificial Womb, Birthing, Cesarean Section, Cross Species Pregnancy, Furry, Male Pregnancy, Mpreg, Older Characters, Older Pregnancy, Self Fertilization, labor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24948553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: After years of failure to have his own children, a doctor goat takes matters into his own hands and plants himself with an artificial womb and several pre-fertilized human embryos.A commission for someone on furaffinity.
Kudos: 20





	The Goat's Human Kids

After nearly ten years of testing how his experiment would go, Brayson was finally at the stage in his testing that he felt confident that his tests would go well. At sixty years old, he had always wanted children, but had never been gifted with the capability or fertility to have them on his own—and finally unable to bear his childless life any longer, he’d started the process of testing self-impregnation and seeing if he’d finally be able to bring his own children into the world. It was a dangerous endeavor; given his age, he knew that it wasn’t going to be an easy pregnancy, but after seeing so many patients come in through the years, happy and healthy and building their families at all ages, it was a challenge he was willing to take on, and a risk that he was willing to take.   
  
He had to be careful, however; no reasonable board of doctors would encourage unverified testing, much less self-experimentation. Though he was fully capable and licensed, he had to go through a great deal of falsifying records. The most easily accessible pre-fertilized embryos were ones from white humans, and though he would have normally preferred to impregnate himself with more goats, it wasn’t difficult to convince himself that no matter what his children were or what they looked like, he would love them regardless.   
  
The procedure, however, was a little more complicated. Since he couldn’t rely on any of his fellow doctors or nurses to help him without possibly getting reported to an ethics board, he settled a private examination room for himself by booking in a fake patient, and from there, it was a careful process. He parted his own legs in the wide stirrups, and reaching around his own, portly belly, he watched the monitors carefully as he went through the process of implanting his own artificial womb. He had gone through the process enough times in watching it performed on others that he knew essentially how it was supposed to look like, and carefully using an extension on a forceps tool, he slid it into place while the camera on a small wire within him went through the process of implanting his own womb, taking a break only to recover from the slight discomfort that the incision to secure it caused. There was a faint sheen of sweat across his forehead, given the precision and effort that the operation took, but he knew that he had to hurry, before any of his coworkers became suspicious. Implanting the womb had already put precarious pressure on his prostate, though, and it was a little more difficult to navigate his self-impregnation with the hard on that the stimulation caused.   
  
With his wrists brushing against his erection while he reached over for the container that held the pre-fertilized embryos that would soon, hopefully, be the children growing within him. It was a little bit larger of a device used to insert the womb, though it was because of the fluid that sustained the embryos as well. Though he had made sure to stretch his ass enough to easily handle all of the operation, now that he was turned on, the sensation of the insertion device holding those eggs felt that much more intense, making him hold his breath as he slid it inside of himself, watching as the tip of it gradually pressed inwards until it was flush with his newly settled womb.   
  
Only then did he squeeze the tip, and let out a faint shiver as he watched as the slurry of lubricant and microscopic embryos slip into the receptive hole. The gush of liquid, the excess lubricant meant to make sure that he was well slick and receptive to the embryos taking place in his womb, was enough to make him shudder and bit down against his own lip so he would remain silent; he had no interest in any of his coworkers coming in right as he hit a climax from both the stimulation and the arousal at knowing that his plans were finally coming to fruition. He felt himself squeeze tight around the thick implanting tube, making a small mess of the thick hair on the underside of his portly belly, but the intensity of his climax also meant that the fluids inside of him would stay for a few seconds longer, ensuring a higher success rate of them taking to his womb. Only when the height of the small climax died down did he remove the tube from within himself, lowering his legs from the stirrups of the bed and standing to clench himself closed, hoping that any number of the numerous fertilized eggs would take as he cleaned himself, and the examination room that he’d reserved. Only time would tell.   
  
\----

It was a few weeks later that he finally started seeing the signs he had been anticipating from the moment he’d gone through the effort of impregnating himself. There came the tell tale nausea in the mornings, coupled with the soreness that left him aching by the time he moved into the hospital for work the next day. Unique to what he’d seen in pregnant goats, his horns were a little more sore as well, meaning he wound up rubbing them regularly—something that was getting him teased by his coworkers, who joked that if he kept touching his horns they might as well throw him a baby shower. They were only joking, and he knew that none of them expected him to actually be pregnant at sixty, but their words filled him with a quiet, secret elation; if the were noticing the sights of pregnancy in him, then surely it had taken.   
  
Unfortunately, he also noticed early on that it was going to be a difficult journey. When the morning sickness first hit, it left him so weak with the strength of how long he retched in the bathroom every morning, bent over his toilet and voiding anything in his stomach and then tasting acid for the next few hours. It left him calling in for nearly two weeks on end before the hospital started to question him—and only then did he go to one of his coworkers to have the blood work done to test for pregnancy. He was elated, and relieved to see that it came back positive—it gave him an official excuse for why he was late every morning, though he couldn’t help but be curious about more. At less than two months, it would still be too early to see how many of the eggs had taken, but news spread in their little hospital very quickly, and before long he was getting all of the attention of a mother-to-be that he had always secretly envied expecting parents of.   
  
There were a few questions here and there, but none that he hadn’t properly prepared to answer; no, he didn’t want to talk about who the father was, and yes, the entire procedure had been done very privately at another hospital so it didn’t create a ‘conflict of interest’ with his current hospital. It got him a bit of slack for arriving to work late on his early shifts considering it made the severity of his motion sickness excusable, though he was reaffirmed that this wouldn’t reflect badly on him, given the expected maternity side effects and how the hospital _couldn’t_ technically discriminate against him.   
  
As the first couple of months started to bleed into the third month, though, he was realizing that he may have gotten in over his head. He was larger than he could have ever imagined at only three months, with his stomach swollen as if he was already nine months pregnant with a single child—it was then that he knew that he’d have to get another ultrasound. Though there had been several small formations in his first one, the other doctor had said it would be easy for the development of some of the eggs to fuse with the others or be lost entirely in that developmental stage.   
  
It wasn’t difficult for him to schedule himself in on his lunch break for and ultrasound, using one of his fellow doctors, a friend of several years, to take a few moments to step into one of the maternity rooms to give him the quick procedure. With his doctors coat and shirt pushed up over his massively grown belly, it was hard to mistake the early pregnancy as anything other than multiples in that moment. His friend made a low, impressed noise at how quickly he’d come along, but neither of them had much time to make small talk or commentary on it, and instead he set to quickly spreading the ultrasound gel across Brayson’s stomach, smearing the chilly semi-fluid into the fur covering his portly, stretched belly. Brayson watched the screen eagerly already, waiting to see the results appear on the screen. There was a little feedback on it at first where the doctor cleaned the wand, before pressing it to his distended stomach, and to both of their surprise, the early forming small bodies of several fetuses appeared against the dark back lighting of the ultrasound machine.   
  
“Well, you’re definitely going to be expecting more than one at this stage,” his friend joked, even though both of them were smart enough to know that that many images forming in his womb meant that ‘more than one’ was a bit of an understatement. Together as his friend moved the wand slowly across his stomach, they counted the blurry shapes that could be made out, and Brayson couldn’t help but feel his heart swell with pride at the eventual realization when they spoke the word ‘six’ aloud in near unison.   
  
“Multiples in in-vitro and other fertilization options are a little more common, but it looks like you’re going to have your hands full with a half-dozen, aren’t you?” his friend joked as he cleaned their working utensils again, wiping away the evidence of their on-the-job use of medical supplies without properly paying for them while Brayson cleaned off any remaining ultrasound gel from his stomach, lowering his shirt as he stood up, rubbing his distended stomach with a fondness in his gaze.   
  
“Probably,” the goat answered with a small, shy grin, “but I think I’m ready for it. I was putting in my retirement soon anyway, so it won’t be like I’m going back home to an empty nest, after all.” His friend laughed at his joke, and other than the pictures his friend had taken of the activity in his belly, the ultrasound photos offering him more than enough pride and excitement following the procedure, they left the room with no evidence that they’d ever used hospital supplies for personal matters.   
  
Brayson’s eagerness was somewhat short lived in nature. Though nothing could make him regret his choices, this excitement started to blend in with discomfort soon enough. No matter what her did or tried, nothing seemed to make his pregnancy any easier as the months bled into his second trimester. While the motion sickness did eventually fully fade, much later than what it should have from his first trimester, it seemed the rest of his symptoms and side effects of a rough pregnancy were just beginning. His size was increasing in leaps and bounds every day, and now that he knew that he was expecting six children, it made a considerable more amount of sense. The soreness that lingered in his limbs, particularly in his knees and ankles, was largely in part to do with how much extra weight he was now having to support. The children inside of him were growing rapidly, and regularly throughout his shifts at the hospital he would have to sit down just to catch his breath or rub his swollen ankles to deal with the lingering pain, though the stubborn old goat was not willing to back down just yet.  
  
It wasn’t long before his belly began getting in the way with basic tasks, though. It was harder to get closer to patients that needed help or IVs put in, and with his size, he wasn’t able to do more dangerous tasks like lifting patients to different beds, or putting any sort of strain on his stomach. At six months along, he was barely able to walk for very long without taking regular breaks, and the hospital began threatening to put him on mandatory maternity leave.   
  
As much as he loved his job, there was only so much he could handle at once, and after the third time one of the hospital executives suggested that he go on maternity leave, he drew in a sharp breath, went into his office, and wrote his retirement notice. He’d been planning on retiring the minute the children were there regardless, but the stress of work and the pregnancy combined were putting him in such a state that if the hospital wanted to force him on to an early maternity leave, then they wouldn’t be able to expect him back afterwards.   
  
He gave a week, and though he didn’t expect them to, the office threw a surprise party for his retirement on his last day—it served as a baby shower as well, given they didn’t think they would have the time for it otherwise, with how busy most of the schedules in a hospital was. Still, afterwards, Brayson was surprise at the stress that it took off of him when preparing for his children. The baby shower had given him many supplies that he hadn’t been aware that he’d need, nor had he had the time to get—with a small stock built up now of diapers, bottles, clothes, and blankets of all sorts. With six children, it had been easy for his co-workers to shop; he was all but guaranteed to have some girls and some boys from what they’d all started joking to be his ‘litter,’ and with this newfound time, it let him start to get nurseries ready in the three spare rooms of his home. It was around this time at home that he started more thoroughly documenting the growth of his belly and his children with pictures in the mirror—one morning even noticing how his innie belly button had popped into an outie overnight, straining from the pressure within his stomach leaving him no more room. His children had pushed against what felt like every organ while they were going, and he liked to joke that they were fond of tap dancing against his bladder when they got particularly active. It made him have to go pee what felt like every half-hour, which was frustrating enough when it was getting so difficult to move often.   
  
The goat was quickly grateful for the fact that he had retired when he did; approaching seven months and several times larger than he had ever been before, his mobility was limited. It was difficult for him to get up in the morning under the weight of his own stomach, and what time he spent on his feet was usually chased with hours of soaking his ankles and feet, relying on foot massager that he could turn on with just a remote rather than uncomfortably dealing with while trying to bend over at his massive size.   
In the later months, it was easier to rely on delivery for food and whatever he still needed for the impromptu nurseries now that he had time to work on it. Into his seventh month, though, the weight began to take a real toll on his aged body. He was too weak to get up in the morning without considerable effort, and he’d had to have a friend install a little rail on the side of his bed just so he’d be able to pull himself up. In his stubbornness he refused to ask that anyone stay with him until it got much closer for him to actually deliver the children, but that just made him more determined to handle things on his own.   
  
Trips to the kitchen were short and often used with the help of leaning on whatever surfaces or walls were nearby, with the weight of his pregnancy making it much more difficult for his older body to support itself. He started to call one of the local takeout places so often that the delivery drivers were kind enough to stop by the window next to his couch rather than asking him to come to the front door to fetch his food, letting him relax a little more in his living room when getting up the stairs to his bedroom became impossible at his size. Finally, his friends started putting their feet down and doing regular check ups on him, bringing him home cooked meals and helping him change his clothing every morning because of how much the pregnancy limited his mobility. It was a special time where he could not have done much without them, without possibly hurting himself or the children that were growing inside of him.   
  
His last month of pregnancy was clearly the hardest, though. With how large his belly had grown, any of his visiting friends could often see the clear outline of how the children were starting to become so much more active within him. He loved them all already, but he spent most mornings quietly rubbing his belly and pleading with his unborn children to hurry up and come visit him on the _outside_ already, so he could have most of his normal life and mobility back. His chest had grown massively as well, and every morning he tentatively squeezed his sore man breasts, finding that they were already producing milk but with no hungry mouths for it to go in, leaving him aching and tender there as well.   
  
Brayson never regretted it, though. As much as he pleaded with his children to be born so things could go back to normal, so much of it was him wanting to hold them in his arms as well. He was ready to be a father, and he knew that no matter how difficult the struggles of the last several months had been, it would all be worth it when they _did_ decide to come into the world. He was a patient goat, after all—he had waited decades to have these children, and a few more weeks would be nothing. That’s what he told himself to get himself by.   
  
He was two entire days past his his due date when he felt the first signs of pain begin to work across his lower belly, the sudden cramping sensation coupled with the rush of warm fluid down his thighs while he was trying, with great difficulty, to make his breakfast, while the friend that he had called to help him the last few days to get to the hospital when the time came was busy running him a morning bath. The minute he called out, _that_ particular plan was canceled, and the friend moved rapidly into the kitchen where he proceeded to panic at seeing the mess between Brayson’s legs as the labor began. They had been expecting it for days, after all, but that didn’t stop it from being a surprise.  
  
Swollen so large, he had trouble even getting into the car, but fortunately he had decided to deliver his children at the same hospital at which he worked—and would likely soon be retiring from, given that he knew that he was going to have his hands full with the children he was soon to bring into the world. They were already expecting them there, and the minute they pulled up to the emergency drop off, a few of the younger doctors were already prepared with a wheelchair and were hasty to take him off to the delivery ward. By the time they actually got him into a hospital gown and took his vitals, he could feel the contractions of what should have been the start of him pushing as they laid him out on a delivery bed. Panting hard for some sense of relief, the older anthro goat was already stressed and half-worn out by the time he parted his legs. The trip to the hospital had been bumpy and after a difficult pregnancy, the doctors were already sharing looks among themselves that Brayson knew meant they thought there would be complications. With a flinch and a pained gasp, he swallowed hard, trying to stand his ground.   
  
“Don’t give me that look,” he started, already breathless. “I’m going to try a natural delivery. You only have my permission to try something else if it starts looking like either of us are in danger.” His coworkers seemed in momentary disbelief, hesitant to address the fact that there might already be a risk of danger, but they knew that he also knew his profession, and daring to question him at this point might make it too uncomfortable to progress. One of the nurses lingered at his side, doing her best to encourage him in breathing evenly and beginning the process of pushing. They could see how dilated he was, telling them that it was either going to be a painful first child, or a long labor, but with how much pain he was in and how rushed the movement within him seemed to be, the children were ready to be out and be out _soon.  
  
_ To everyone’s surprise, he started to deliver the first child within only a few minutes. It was painful, though, a moment where they clearly through they were going to have to involve the forceps. Only in the last, pressing moments did he manage to groan aloud, and give one hard push that was enough to bring the first child into the world, with the umbilical cord hastily taken care of. While there was some initial confusion over why the goat doctor’s children all seemed to be human, there wasn’t any time to actually focus on it for long. The infant was quickly taken away, and the doctors monitoring his vitals realized quickly that he wasn’t going to have the strength to deliver the other five children that they knew that he was expecting. At his age, there was just too much of a risk in letting him continue the birth naturally, and he was aware of it, given how breathless and weak he felt after just the first attempt at giving birth. From there, it was a hasty process of moving quickly out of the attempt of a manual labor, and into the medical position where they were disinfecting his belly and preparing for an emergency Cesarean.   
  
After hastily applying a local anesthetic that would take care of the pain of the incision, the doctors move to the alternative birth method as quickly as they could. Wasting any time would put the children still within Brayson at further risk, and the last thing they wanted to do was fail in the delivery for their coworker and fellow doctor. Carefully, they cut into the lower part of the stomach, right under his popped out belly button, that had felt like it was about to burst to the goat anthro for weeks now, and quickly, they set about navigating carefully to the opening they would now have to cut into his womb implant as well, at the base of it so they could make the delivery as swift as possible. Though Brayson could no longer see what was happening with the medical curtain they’d put over the upper part of his belly, he could feel the movement even with the anesthetic. Though the medicine had dulled any pain that he might feel from the incisions, it didn’t stop the tugging sensation. He knew from researching it immensely that it was just the children being pulled out via the incisions rather than a natural birth, but the first sound of his second born child’s crying when the doctor brought her into the world was the one relief to know that the procedure was going to go well.   
  
Just as soon as the position of the crying changed in the room, telling him that they’d gotten the little one’s umbilical cord taken care of and cleaned up, the tugging sensation resumed, telling him that once again, they were working on pulling another child from him. Grateful he couldn’t feel the same pain that his labor had brought on from the incision, he did his best to remain calm, breathing deeply as he grasped the hand of one of the nurses, feeling the pressure and then the tension going slack in relief of the third child being pulled from his body as well. As with the others, he waited with a held breath to try and make sure he heard their first cry, only exhaling when he heard the quick, high pitched noise of the next newborn taking their first, furious breaths. The doctors were doing their best to make sure that he didn’t lose a lot of blood—though it was difficult, knowing they had three more births to go and that they would have to keep his wounds open and drained for that long. They were moving as quickly as possible, so he barely had time to hear the third child before that sound, took, was moved across the room and the tugging began again. This time, however, it seemed the doctors were able to get two almost at the same time, given how tightly the little ones had been holding on to one another in his womb. To his surprise, the echoing cries of the fourth and fifth child seemed to bounce out at the same time, relieving him that there was only one more to go in the intense delivery.   
  
He wasn’t sure if it was just his age or the amount of blood that he had surely lost in the procedure so far, but he was starting to feel more and lightheaded, weak from the strain of birth and the last several months of carrying the children had him exhausted. The nurse brushed a damp cloth across his brow, making sure to help keep him a little hydrated and aware while the last sensation of tugging followed again, and finally, the last set of cries that he expected to hear from his children in that moment.   
  
It was hard for him to have the patience for the doctors to stitch him up, even though he knew how important it was that they actually do so. He was ready to wiggle with his impatience when it came to finally getting him patched up, and knowing that he was stitched up and his bleeding had stopped when it came to lowering the barrier that they’d put between him and his own lower belly to keep him from the somewhat horrifying scene of having to watch his own stomach be cut open. They’d cleaned him up rather well and gotten him covered, but they knew that that was the last thing on his mind at the moment, and to keep him from straining too much craning his head to try and see his children, the nurses quickly began to bring them over one by one. The oldest two were clearly the loudest, hungry and displeased by how long they’d been kept away from, and careful to not aggravate his new stitches below his belly, now looking a little deflated but still portly since the children were no longer filling it, the nurses handed him two of the infants to begin nursing from his chest, one arm supporting each infant to the anthro goat’s swollen breasts, having grown to nearly six times what they’d been before just to give milk to all six children.   
  
He looked on to them fondly; despite the struggle the pregnancy had brought him, he had no regrets now that his small human children had finally been brought into the world. He was finally a father, and there was nothing that could have made him happier.   
  
It was a sentient he kept for the foreseeable future. Nearly five years later given that he had finally retired from his hospital position, and the savings of his years as a doctor had really, truly paid off in funding the fairly expensive life of raising six children. He couldn’t help but tap into that savings more than once—when one of them had fallen and broken a baby tooth, when others broke something expensive in the house, or worse, when one had accidentally put bubblegum on a painting in the museum he’d been showing them around once.   
  
Despite all the trials, he stood by the fact that his children had made him the happiest he’d ever been in life. He did his best to make sure they never wanted for anything, taking them wherever he could and doing all manner of things to make sure they were bright young individuals with even brighter futures. He’d somewhat mastered the art of wrangling all of them at once, and they’d quickly learned that the zoo was their favorite place to visit. Something about the collections of animals all together enraptured the attention of the children, and once they turned six, the corn dog stand in the zoo’s central park area also became the children’s favorite place to eat.   
  
Even now, he could see why. Sitting on the large family sized tables, with his little human children feeding the local squirrels pieces of their fries or batter by hand from how socialized the little creatures were, he knew that they were going to make these memories for years to come. Even if they went once or twice a month, the children seemed to never grow tired of it, and that was part of what made Brayson so proud. They’d grow up curious and learning, and the fact he could entertain that curiosity and imagination made being a father more fulfilling than he could have ever imagined.


End file.
